


Devil's Child

by EmmyDrakon



Category: Supernatural, Supernatural (Deviation from Canon)
Genre: Demon, Deviation From Canon, F/M, Pregnancy, Pregnant, Rape, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-08 05:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12248139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyDrakon/pseuds/EmmyDrakon
Summary: What's a demon to do when he can't get something he wants? He takes it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was begun early on in my Supernatural obsession, so it deviates from canon. Sorry.  
> Title is cheesy af, I know, I'm working on it lol

The light jingling of the doorbell highlighted the soft murmur of conversation as it announced the arrival of another customer into the small country café, where the Winchester brothers sat in a small booth by the window, discussing recent events. Sam’s computer was open in front of him as he surfed the web for their next job.  
“Well, looks like nothing really interesting has happened around here for almost a year now,” Sam said, closing the lid and wrapping his long fingers around his coffee mug.   
His brother Dean looked up from the burger he was demolishing. “Yea? What happened a year ago?”  
Sam shrugged, sipping his hot drink cautiously. “It looks like someone went missing, but there’s no pattern, no previous disappearances, and no evidence of foul play. The guy was never found, only his car. Sounded pretty normal to me.”  
Dean leaned forward and took another enormous bite, stuffing the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. “Alright then we search wider.” His voice was muffled through the mouthful.  
Eyebrows raised, Sam chuckled. “I guess so…” His eyes drifted toward the window and out across the street. There, next to a bulletin board, stood a young woman, bundled against the chill wind. She seemed to hanging posters of man. A familiar man. Sam stood, grabbing his coat, his eyes never leaving the girl.  
Dean looked up. “Hey, where you goin’?”  
Sam tugged the jacket over his broad shoulders. “I’ll be right back. Just gotta check something…” In just a few seconds Sam’s long stride had carried him out the door.  
_____________________________________________________  
The cold wind bit at Emily’s face and hands as she stretched to reach the poster that fluttered just out of her reach, matching the ones in the stack that now struggled to escape her grasp. Her numb fingers finally managed to catch the corner of the paper, and with a quick tug it came down to join its fellows. She sighed, smoothing the picture, her fingers lingering on the man’s cold, paper cheek. The date on the page branded him missing for almost a year; she had only recently gotten up the strength to take the posters down.   
Turning away, she looked up, facing into the wind and looking out across the street. There, a man caught her eye. Her breath caught, but a split second later, he was gone. Vanished. Her eyes raked the crowed street desperately, searching, but in vain. She slumped, turning to head farther down the road. I could have sworn….. But it couldn’t have been. With a brisk shake of her head she strode of down the sidewalk, pointedly avoiding the dead, blank stares of the posters in her arms, and soon stopping in front of the next bulletin board. This missing persons notice hadn’t been put up by her. The evidence: it was a foot above her hand even when she was on tiptoes. As she was contemplating her predicament, a warm voice sounded near here.  
“Need a hand?”  
She turned, pushing her windblown hair out of her face. A young man stood there with a rather mischievous grin on his face and his hands buried deep in his coat pockets. His shaggy, jaw-length brown hair was sticking out in all directions from the wind, and his eyes were warm and friendly. She smiled in greeting. He looks like a puppy…. She eyed his over-6-foot frame. A really tall, handsome, probably ripped puppy… Her cold-flushed cheeks warmed. “Would you? That’d be great.”  
“Sure.” He stepped passed her, reaching up with one long arm and taking down the notice in one swift movement without stretching. Before handing it to her, he looked at it, scrutinizing the picture with an unreadable expression. “Who is this?”  
Emily cocked her head to the side, holding her hair at the nape of her neck with one hand and the posters with the other. Her bright smile had faded slightly. “You new in town?”  
He looked up at her. “Yea... My brother and I, we’re just passing through.”  
“Mm.” She looked down, scuffing the sidewalk with her black combat boots. Heaving a sigh, she met his worried eyes with a sad smile. “That’s my brother, Jimmy. He disappeared last September.”  
“Oh. I’m sorry...” Bothered brown eyes looked back down at the picture. “They never found anything..?”  
“Just his car, two weeks later.” She hugged the papers to her chest. “I should’ve taken the posters down before now but I just... kept hoping, you know? Kept praying.”  
“Yeah...” He handed the poster to her, meeting her eyes. “Do- do you think I could ask you a few more questions about Jimmy and his disappearance? My brother and I, we have a sort of hobby, investigating these sort of things.”  
After a moment or two, Emily opened her mouth to speak, tugging the collar of her coat so that it covered her neck almost to her chin. “I-“ The sight of another person striding purposefully toward them cut her off, her eyes widening slightly. Oh no no no please no… “Um, I think, yea I- I’d like that. I actually have to run, think we can talk later?” At his nod, she dove for a pen. Digging in her pocket, she quickly flipped a poster and scribbled an address down on the back of it. She handed it to him. “That’s my apartment, just a couple blocks down that way,” she said with a wave of her hand down the road. She started to leave, then quickly returned with her hand extended, a sheepish smile on her face. “Emily Novak.”  
The handsome stranger barked a laugh, a genuine, if not confused grin spreading across his face. He shook her hand firmly, his large hand completely enveloping her own. “Sam Winchester. I’ll come by with my brother around 7:30?”  
“Yeah! Sounds good!” Emily glanced around him; the last person on planet earth that she ever wanted to see had almost reached them. “Well, I gotta run. See you tonight!” She whipped around and trotted away, fighting the instinct to break into an all-out run.  
_________________________________________________________  
Sam watched her as she went, her golden hair flying and snapping in the wind. He turned to head back to the café – and slammed right into another young man. “Whoa! God, I’m sorry man, gotta watch where I’m go-“   
The man brushed right past him as if he hadn’t even noticed his collision with Sam. He headed off in the same direction as Emily, never breaking his stride.  
“Going…. Huh.” Sam watched him go, his brow furrowed. He looked back down at the poster. He knew he had seen that man somewhere. I almost don’t believe it…. Guess there’s something going on in this town after all. Never occurred to me Jimmy had family… A sister of all things…That’s angels I guess. Considerate as they come. He sighed. And now there’s a girl hurting because of it and we can’t do anything to help. He folded the paper and tucked it away in his coat pocket, then set out at a jog for the café. Once there, he dropped into the booth, poured out his story, then slid the folded poster across the table.   
Dean leaned back in his seat, eyebrows raised. “You’re sure?”  
Sam nodded. “Positive.”  
Dean paused, then leaned forward and grabbed the sheet. He turned it over and over, reading the address and looking up at Sam. “Hers?”  
“Yeah. I asked if I could know more, and it looked like she was going to tell me, but then something, or someone, spooked her. She got all hurried and jumpy. Almost ran off without telling me her name. So you and I are going to her place tonight. 7:30.”  
“Is she cute?”  
“You can stop there.”   
Dean chuckled, then unfolded the poster. He froze, staring at the man on the page.  
Sam watched him; he had been expecting this reaction. “See what I mean?”  
Dean stared for a while longer, then dropped the paper on the table on front of him, clasping his hands and resting his chin on them. “Yeah. Yeah I do.”  
The man on the page was Castiel.


	2. Chapter 2

Emily gazed at herself in the mirror, trying to tame her mane of golden hair, settling for brushing it down and letting it hang over her shoulders and down to her waist. She had a half hour before her guests arrived, but she was anxious. I don’t even know these guys... But when one of them shows up asking about my missing brother I go and invite him to my house for a nice long chat! What’s up with that? She tugged at the collar of the deep blue turtleneck sweater she was wearing. It was kind of uncomfortable, but, unfortunately, necessary. It went well with her hair and eyes; it wasn’t something she would normally wear, though. With it went dark skinny jeans, not too tight, and a pendant that Jimmy had given her for her birthday. She was barefoot, as usual, and wore no ornaments in her hair or ears.   
Shrugging at herself in the mirror, she made her way into the small kitchenette. There, she busied herself with various chores, washing dishes and putting away things around the apartment. Lost in memories and thoughts, she almost forgot about the impending visit. So when the ringing of the doorbell cut rudely through the silence of her home, her muttered string of startled profanities was only natural.   
Jogging to the door, she stretched onto her toes to look through the peephole. Sam was standing there, hands in his pockets, hair blown every which way, just like before. Oh look, a little lost puppy… And it brought a friend. She stifled a giggle as she stepped back and opened the door. “Sam, hey. Thanks for coming.”  
“Hi Emily.” Sam gestured to the young man standing beside him. “This is my brother, Dean.”  
Dean stepped forward, extending his hand with a crooked, almost flirtatious smile. “Hey, how’s it going?”  
“Hi, nice to meet you.” Emily cast a quick eye over him as she shook the proffered hand. He wasn’t as tall as Sam, but he was just as broad-shouldered and muscular. He had short, dark blonde hair that was spiked in the front and mossy green eyes. Overall, very good-looking. She stepped back, opening the door wide. “C’mon in.”  
The two brothers stepped inside, looking around. She led them into the dining room and gestured to the table. “Have a seat. Can I get y’all anything?”  
They looked at each other. “I think we’re alright. Thanks, though,” Sam said as he sat down. Dean sat next to him.  
“Sure.” Emily pulled out a chair for herself across from them, sitting down and leaning back. She straightened her collar, pulling it up to her jaw. “So. Y’all wanted to talk about Jimmy...”  
“Um, yea. How about you just tell us about him, growing up and the like?”  
She sighed, leaning her head back. “Wow… Where do I start?”  
“How about at the beginning?” Dean supplied.  
“Ok…. Um, our parents married young, and a couple years in they had Jimmy. He was their pride and joy. Mom taught him about faith, love, and family and Dad taught him everything else. They were happy...” Emily sighed, her sad smile fading away. Her voice changed from wistful and sad to almost scornful. “Then, when Jimmy was 10, I came along. And Mom died in childbirth. Everything fell apart. I barely survived infancy, but Dad didn’t care. He turned his back on everything and everyone he ever loved and ever loved him. He started drinking... A lot. He lost his job; Jimmy dropped out of school to take care of me. He raised me. Taught me everything he knew, which was basically how to survive. He had to grow up way too fast...”   
She took a slow, shuddering breath. “Then, one night, when I was 10, Jimmy was 18, an officer showed up at our house. He said that out dad had been driving home late, drunk of course, and had crashed. He was dead. We were on our own.” Blinking hard, she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “We got on alright. Worked for what we had. Roof over our heads, food in the fridge, the necessities. But it wasn’t perfect, you know? And Jimmy was always overworking himself, trying to do everything he could to make it perfect. But then… It got weird. He started praying, constantly, and always looking up stuff, lore and myths on angels.”  
Dean interrupted. “Angels?”   
Sam elbowed him. “Shh!”  
Nodding slowly, Emily swallowed, then continued. “He would babble about how angels could come to earth and possess a human, make it their ‘vessel’. He started praying for it… As if it would make our lives perfect… Then he vanished.”   
__________________________________________________________  
Sam leaned back in his chair, slowly processing the information that had been given to him by the girl that sat in front of him. He glanced at Dean, who seemed equally disturbed. “Emily, when they found Jimmy’s car, what other evidence did they find?”  
She wiped her eyes, breathing deeply. “Um, nothing, as far as they could tell. No tracks, no evidence of a tussle… no blood, nothing. Just the car. Except…”  
“Except what?” Dean asked.  
“There was a scorch mark on the hood, dead center, like lightening had struck it or something. I know for a fact that wasn’t there before. Jimmy loved that car. He would never have let it get marked like that.”   
The two brothers exchanged looks. Both had arrived at the same conclusion: they had stumbled upon the remaining family of Castiel’s vessel, and she was not going to be pleased when she found out.  
Sam cleared his throat. “Emily, could we see some pictures of Jimmy? Past and present, if that’s alright.”  
Emily stood, straightening her sleeves. “Sure, just gimme a sec.”   
Dean watched her as she left, then leant over to his brother. “What do we tell her?”  
Sam shrugged, furrowing his brow worriedly. “I don’t know... The truth?”  
“You sure that’s a good idea?”  
“I think this time it’s our only option.” Sam looked up as their host reentered the room.   
She handed him an old photo of a small family in front of a house in the country. “That’s Mom, Dad, and Jimmy in front of their house out in the hills. Jimmy must’ve been about 6...”  
Sam smiled at the image of what was, to him, a young Castiel, smiling bright with his dark curls tousled in the same way. His piercing blue eyes matched those of his mother, while his dark hair made him look like his father. He accepted the next picture, passing that one to Dean, who stared at it, chuckling softly.   
“This was taken about a month before Jimmy vanished…” Her voice was small and sad, and the words caught in her throat.  
There was Cas, standing and smiling with his arm protectively around the shoulders around a petite young woman who had his same intense blue eyes, but the similarities ended there. Her long blonde hair flowed down her back like molten gold, and her face was full of a heavy sort of hope. It was Emily, but younger; the stress of her life since then seemed to have aged her all too quickly. Now she was thin; her face was drawn, and that hope was all but extinguished.   
Sam looked up as Emily sat back down in front of him. He knit his brows together. “And how are you holding up?  
She shrugged. “Fine, I guess. I have what I need…” She refused to meet his eyes. Sam noticed her tugging at her sleeves and collar again. May be just a nervous habit…   
He nodded. “Right…” He slid the photo over to her, catching Dean’s eye with a questioning look.   
Dean heaved a sigh, nodded tersely, then looked up at their host. “Emily?”  
She looked up. “Yes?”  
The brothers exchanged a look. “We… hate to be the ones to break this to you...” Sam began. “But…”  
Dean picked up. “Your brother. All that stuff he was saying about angels. It’s true.”  
Emily straightened in her seat, her lips parting. “Wh-what?”  
Sam had to force himself to keep looking at her. “He was chosen as a vessel by an angel named Castiel…”   
The shocked silence that met their announcement was almost painful.   
Sam went to stand. “Emily?”  
She shook her head slowly, unable to speak. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “How can that be true?”  
Leaning back, Sam gazed apologetically at the distressed girl. “I’m sorry…”  
Taking a deep breath, she looked up, smoothing her hair down. “Can I see him?” she asked shakily.  
Dean responded hesitantly. “We can call him, but it won’t be Jimmy. It’ll only look like him. Angels don’t feel, and Cas is no exception.”  
She nodded. “I’m sure. Call him.”  
Dean looked at Sam, then turned his eyes upward. “Castiel? We’ve got a sort of situation here… Come on down..”  
______________________________________________________  
Emily waited with baited breath, casting her eyes nervously about the room. Her mind was whirling, struggling to process what the two men in front of her had just said. An angel….. Her eyes flicked back to Sam. He was watching her sympathetically, flipping a pocketknife in between his long fingers. She felt tears prickling hot in her eyes and turned her face down toward the table. After a moment, she heard rustling, like feathers. She looked up. Sam and Dean were both sitting up, looking past her. Her stomach clenched as she turned. There he was. Exactly the same as the day he left. Her brother stood there, watching her, with no recognition in his eyes. This time, she did nothing to stem the flow of tears that flooded down her cheeks. She stood, stepping backward. She heard Sam and Dean stand behind her.   
“Hey Cas,” Dean said.  
“Hello Dean.”   
Emily’s breath hitched at the sound of his gravelly voice. He cocked his head, birdlike, to the side, watching her.   
Sam stepped forward. “Castiel, this is Emily. Emily Novak. She’s Jimmy’s sister…”   
The angel didn’t bat an eyelid. “I know.”  
Scrubbing at her eyes, Emily took a shaky breath. “Wh-Why him? Why’d you take him?”  
“Because he was chosen. It had to be your brother.”  
“But why??” Her voiced pitched higher. She could barely breathe; the world sounded muffled. She barely registered Sam’s hand on her back, or Dean’s shoulder brushing against hers.   
Cas pinned her with his unwavering stare. “Because it had to be.”  
Her shock turned to anger. She balled her fists. But only for a moment. She wanted to scream, cry, and punch something all at once. Slumping, she leaned against the nearest support: Dean. She buried her face in his chest, sobbing. After a moment, she felt him wrap his strong arms around her shaking frame. It took a few minutes for her to calm down, but even when she did, she stayed there, pressed against him. She heard muffled voices, then the rustling of feathers. Good riddance.. The thought alone nearly brought on a new flood of tears. She lifted her head from Dean’s chest, giving him an apologetic glance. He smiled crookedly, if not awkwardly in return. “I’m sorry about this,” she mumbled.   
He shrugged. “I’d be more worried if you didn’t cry.”  
She smiled slightly, then stepped away from him, breathing deeply and straightening her clothes. “Can, um, y’all excuse me for a sec? I’m gonna go get cleaned up.”  
Sam smiled comfortingly at her. “Of course. Take your time.”  
She waved a shaking hand toward the living room. “Make yourselves comfortable. I won’t be long.” With that, she turned and walked quickly away, once again tugging on the neck of her sweater.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam dropped onto the worn couch, heaving a sigh. “Sometimes I hate this job…”  
Dean sat beside him. “Sometimes?” he scoffed. “God, I almost couldn’t stand to look at her when she started crying like that. It was painful.”  
Sam raised his eyebrows. “Well whaddaya know, Dean has a heart.” He ducked a projectile; Dean had thrown a pillow at him. “But I know what you mean. Seeing her like that… And Cas was no help, as usual.”  
“No kidding.”  
Sam leaned back, falling silent. He furrowed his brow. “Hey, did you notice how she was always tugging at her sleeves and the collar of that turtleneck she’s wearing?”  
Dean shrugged. “Sort of, yeah. I just thought she was uncomfortable. I would be, in one of those things. Or nervous.”  
“Yeah, could be… But it almost like she was trying to cover something up, like she has a scar or something.”  
Dean cocked his head, looking thoughtful. “I guess…”   
At that moment, Emily reentered the room. Both men stood.  
Sam looked concerned. “How are you?”  
Emily shrugged, splaying her hands flat on the sides of her legs. “Better, I guess… I just… needed a second to pull myself together.”  
“Of course.” Sam nodded. He gestured toward his seat on the couch, snagging a chair from the dining room. He placed it across from her and sat down as Dean dropped back onto his spot on the cushions and put his elbows on his knees.  
She sat down more slowly, curling into a ball with her knees to her chest. Her feet were bare. They sat there in silence for several minutes, each person caught in their own thoughts.  
“Do you have a place to stay?”  
Sam looked up. “Come again?”  
“The two of you. Where are y’all staying?”  
Sam and Dean looked at each other. “Well, we don’t actually have a place yet. I thought I saw a motel down the road,” Sam supplied.  
Emily bit her lip. “It’s not the greatest, I’ve heard. We don’t get many visitors.” She seemed to think, then come to a decision. “You could stay here, if you like. I have room.”  
Dean raised his eyebrows, leaning back. “Here?”  
She shrugged.  
“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “I mean, you hardly know us…”  
She smiled softly. “You know more about me than almost anyone in this town, and I’ve lived here my whole life.” She paused. “And… I don’t…” A sigh. “I don’t think I could stand being alone tonight.”  
Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean in a silent question. Dean shrugged. “Alright then. We’ll stay at Hotel Emily tonight.”  
“Thanks,” Sam added.   
Nodding, Emily smiled. She uncurled and stood. “Let me make sure the spare room is inhabitable. I have that one, and the couch folds out. And, Jimmy’s old room, I guess.” Her voice faltered, then strengthened again. She seemed determined not to think about the events of the past hour.   
Sam stood as well. “We don’t want to take up too much space. Whatever’s convenient for you.”  
“Right.” Dean stretched languidly. “I’ll grab the duffels. Sammy can play housemaid and help make the beds.” He shot his brother a playful grin then darted for the door in case Sam found something to throw at him.   
Sam rolled his eyes. Emily laughed, surprising him. Seems we’ve already been good for her livelihood at least. After we told her that her brother was worse than dead. He followed her down a small hallway.  
“The guest room is the first door on the right. Mine is the last on the left. Jimmy’s is across from that.” She opened a smaller door in between her room and a small bathroom. “Hold these.” Sam chuckled as she started piling his arms with sheets and the like. Then he followed her into the guest room. It was plain, but pleasant, with a good-sized bed and a large, curtained window. Turned out he was hopeless when it came to making up the rooms. By the time she had taught him how to change the sheets and properly make the bed, Dean was standing at the door, leaning on the frame, and all three of them were laughing.   
Sam pushed his fingers through his hair, chuckling. “But how did you make it do that?” he protested.  
Emily shrugged helplessly, laughing. “Do what?”  
“Go all smooth like that!”  
She threw her hands up. “I just did! It’s not that hard!!”  
Dean was doubled over with laughter, clinging to the doorframe for support while he gasped for breath.   
Sam pointed at him accusingly. “Shaddahp.”  
His brother just waved helplessly, unable to speak.  
Rolling his eyes, Sam looking back to where Emily perched on the edge of the bed, giggling at their antics. When she reached up to push her hair out of her face, her sleeve slipped down her wrist a centimeter, revealing the very edge of a dark, mottled, discoloration on her arm. Is that… a bruise? But he only got a glimpse; she had already tugged the sleeve back up to her palm.   
__________________________________________________________  
A few hours later, Emily sat on the couch in darkness. Her guests had already gone to bed, but she had found herself unable to sleep. Instead, she sat in her living room in her pajamas, flipping through old pictures and scrolling through the photo library on her computer. She didn’t have very many; they never really had a cause to take pictures. But the ones she did have brought back bittersweet memories: Her sixteenth birthday, Jimmy’s eighteenth, the day he brought home that old car. She smiled. It had been such a wreck. But with a little tender loving care and days on end of obsessively hard work, he had made it into something beautiful. Her smile faded as she leaned forward to set the laptop on the coffee table in front of her. It hurt to remember, but it hurt more to let those memories fade. Sighing, she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her bathrobe more tightly around herself. The image of her brother standing in front of her, stone-faced and uncaring, rose unbidden to her mind. He barely even recognized me… Hot tears pricked at her eyes as she forced it down.  
She cast about for something else to think about, anything to get her mind of her brother. Her thoughts landed on the Winchesters. I barely know them… Just that somehow they have contact with angels… And I just went ahead and invited them to stay. She had no idea why she did it. Maybe she just… needed someone to be there. Someone who knew about what was going on. She rubbed her arms and wrists At least some of it. Her eyes drooped, fatigue weighing them down. The stress of the day had exhausted her completely, and now she was actually starting to feel it. Her body relaxed, and her eyes slid shut, and she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.  
___________________________________________________________  
Sam stretched beneath the comforter of what used to be Jimmy’s bed. Something had woken him, but he wasn’t sure what. He just knew it wasn’t dangerous. Tossing the blankets aside, he stood and walked quietly to the door. He hadn’t closed it all the way before going to bed, just in case. He slipped out into the hallway, flinching when his bare feet touched the cold linoleum. He stood still for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness around him. The guest room door was shut, and probably salted. Dean was paranoid like that. Emily’s door, on the other hand, was only half closed. He leaned across the hall and peeked in. Empty. The bed hadn’t been touched all night. Sam furrowed his brow, then padded softly into the living room. A blue-ish glow caught his eye. He tensed, then relaxed, smiling a bit when he saw her.   
Her computer was open on the coffee table, illuminating her sleeping form in a dim, blue light. She was curled against the arm rest, her hair splayed across her face, that shook with each breath she took. Sam chuckled softly and walked over to kneel beside her head. He placed one gentle hand on her hair, stroking her forehead with his thumb. “Emily,” he whispered.   
Her eyebrows raised as she stretched to her full height, which wasn’t long enough to take up the whole couch, Sam noticed, but her eyes stayed closed. She hummed softly, then went still, drifting back into a deep sleep. Alright then. Plan B. Sam stood and moved to the front of the couch, closing the lid of the computer. He knelt back down, and carefully slipped his arms underneath her back and knees. Then he rose, cradling her gently against his chest. As smoothly as he could, the young hunter carried the sleeping girl back to her room and laid her gingerly on the bed. Again she stretched and muttered, but still refused to wake. He pulled the comforter up to her chest, then paused. The dark could play tricks but… He could swear he saw bruises lining her collarbone, just above the neckline of her top. Shaking his head, he stepped away from the bed and silently returned to his own room. If she wanted to tell him, she would. In her own time.


	4. Chapter 4

Light streamed in through the curtained window of Emily’s bedroom. She groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. Wait… I fell asleep on the couch last night… She sat up, yawning and stretching. And I’m still in my robe… Smiling, she slid out of bed. One of my guests must’ve carried me. So sweet. A little bit uncomfortable. But sweet. Yawning again, she wrapped her silky robe tightly around herself and knotted the ties, making sure that no extra skin was showing. She patted her hair down, then stepped barefoot out into the hall. The doors to both rooms were open, and the rooms were vacant. Shoot. They’re already up. She had meant to get up early and make breakfast… Oops.   
Sam was at the stove, and Dean was at the table. Both men looked up when she entered the brightly lit kitchen.   
Sam smiled. “How’d you sleep?”  
“Really well, actually. Thank you. But I’m sorry for not being up sooner. Some hostess… You should’ve woken me!”  
Sam shook his head adamantly while Dean shrugged. “No worries. You needed it.”  
Emily smiled and tiptoed over to the counter. “Can’t make beds, but can cook, huh?”  
Sam shrugged. “Hey, some things you learn, some things you let other people do for you.” He lifted the skillet. “How does bacon and eggs sound?”  
Normally, that would’ve sounded amazing. This particular morning, it made her stomach churn. She swallowed her nausea and shook her head. “I… Don’t think I’m all the way awake quite yet. I’m just gonna make some tea.”  
Concerned darkened Sam’s face for a split second, then was gone. “Alright.”  
_________________________________________________________  
She turned away and walked over to open one of the cabinets. Sam turned to give his brother a meaningful look. Odd… His brother’s shrug showed his indifference. He obviously hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. Sam turned back to the stove only partially, keeping Emily in his peripheral vision.  
She stood in front of the cabinets, scanning through the glass fronts for whatever she needed. As she searched, she fiddled with the ties on her robe, tugging absently at the knot. After a moment, she reached for the handle of the cabinet door, sending her sleeve sliding down her arm to her elbow. She didn’t seem to notice. But Sam did.  
Bruises. Some half-healed, some far more fresh, all spread down the length of her forearm. Sam’s stomach knotted at the sight of them. By the time she realized what had happened and went to cover the injuries, it was too late. He had already seen. In two and a half steps he was at her side, taking her hand and pulling it toward him. She tried halfheartedly to pull away, but he held her fast.   
“Sam…” She sounded so broken, and… scared?  
“Emily.” He struggled to keep the anger out of his voice. “Who did this to you?”  
Dean stood behind them, his eyes filled with disgust.  
“I…” She shook her head, pressing her lips together. Her other hand gripped her collar.  
Sam stood and studied her for a moment, then released her hand. Slowly, he reached for the ties of her robe. As he expected, she stopped him.  
“Please. Don’t.” She was shaking.  
Gently, he pushed past her trembling hands and undid the knot. With that, she slumped. He bit his lip; he hated to see her look so utterly defeated. With the tips of his fingers, he pinched the collar and lifted it from her shoulders, then let it fall to the floor. Dean inhaled sharply behind him as they both beheld her.  
The same bruises that marred her wrists and arms were starkly seen anywhere left exposed by her low-cut spaghetti strap pajama top. And it was obvious what had left them there.  
“Emily. I want you to show us the bastard that did this,” Dean growled. Sam nodded.  
She hugged herself tightly, biting her lip and shivering. She refused to meet either of their eyes.   
Sam knelt, never taking his eyes off her, and picked the robe up off the floor. He gently draped it over her shoulders, pulling it closed at the neck. “Emily. We want to help.”  
Nodding, she breathed deeply and opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a loud pounding at the door. Every head turned, startled, toward the source of the offending noise. Exhaling unsteadily, Emily shoved her shaking arms back into her robe and tied it firmly around her waist.   
Dean lowered himself slowly into a chair at the breakfast table, one hand slipping inside his coat.   
Sam grasped her upper arm. “Should I-?”  
She shook her head and pulled free from his hand. The pounding continued. Obviously, whoever this visitor was, he/she wasn’t going to be a pleasant guest. Sam watched carefully as she walked to the door and stretched to her tip toes to peer through the peep hole.   
_________________________________________________________  
Stretching, Emily placed her eye to the tiny window, and immediately felt herself go cold as the blood drained from her face. No, no, no please…   
He was back. The man who had hurt her. Luke Narciss. He was handsome, but unnaturally so. The perfect sandy blonde hair above brilliant blue eyes, with sculpted features and the California surfer’s build made him an utter heartthrob. Every woman in the town fell head over heels for him, except Emily. He scared her. He was too handsome, too perfect. It wasn’t natural. And those stunning good looks hid a core as nasty and rotten as the devil himself. But out of every girl in town, he had his sights on Emily Novak, the one girl who was doing her very best to avoid him. He took what he wanted, when he wanted it. And most of it he had already gotten.   
Stepping back, she breathed deeply, then opened the door a crack without undoing the chain. “Luke.” Her voice was cold and hard.   
His voice, on the other hand, was absolutely dripping with sweet honey. It sickened her. “Emily Novak, how long has it been?”  
“A day.”  
He threw his head back and chuckled. The sound grated unpleasantly on her ears. “So it has.”   
Emily tightened her grip on the door. “What do you want?”  
His smile never reached his eyes. “So coarse, dear Emily. I came to visit. It’s only polite to invite me in.”  
Her insides knotted. “I’m busy.”  
“Too busy for me?”  
“Always.” Immediately she wished she hadn’t been so bold.   
He leaned in close, pressing a hand against the door and stretching the chain to its limits, his fake smile now plastered on by force. “Really, Emily, when is there call to be so rude?”  
She swallowed, her throat dry. “I have guests.”  
“Really now? Then I must meet them.” Before she could protest, he had muscled his way through the door with one quick shove. The chain snapped.   
She scuttled off to the side and out of reach, turning to look desperately at Sam and Dean. They were a welcome sight.   
Sam was leaning with his elbows on the table, almost absently flipping a good-sized hunting knife in one hand. His eyes drilled cold holes into Luke, as if he was contemplating whether or not to pin him to the wall. Dean was next to him, lounging with his legs stretched out under the table. His hands were occupied with a dangerous-looking handgun that he was currently making a show of cleaning and reloading. He tested the sight, pointing it at Luke’s forehead. Emily had to resist the urge to smile or hug them, or both. Even though they’re playing with weapons in my house… Where did those things even come from?  
Luke’s smile became a pasted-on grimace. “Do introduce me, dearest.”  
Dean’s eyebrows rose at the nickname.   
Emily gestured to each man in turn. “Luke, Sam and Dean. Sam and Dean, Luke. They were friends of Jimmy’s,” she added.  
Luke inclined his head to them. The Winchesters offered no such courtesy. “May I ask, why they are here?”  
Sam stepped in. “Like she said, family friends. We just wanted to check in and make sure she was doing ok.”   
“Then it seems you have completed your task. As you can see, she’s fine.” One machine-tanned arm encircled her shoulders. She tensed.  
The knife in Sam’s fingers stilled, unknown to her, poised to throw.   
Dean shot his brother a look that also went under Emily’s radar. He slapped the loaded clip into place. “You seem awfully keen to get rid of us, Sunshine.” He stood, stretching. “Are we in the way?”  
Emily winced as Luke’s fingers dug into her arm. She caught Sam’s eye, silently begging for rescue. He nodded almost imperceptibly.  
Dean stepped closer, keeping the gun held loosely down at his side. “Why don’t you let Lil’ Em go, and we’ll have a chat, huh?”   
The grip around her shoulders tightened, causing her to grunt in pain.   
Shrugging, Dean turned away. “Ok.” Suddenly, he whirled, landing a quick, solid punch square on the offender’s nose. Luke released her and staggered back against the door jam, blinded. As soon as she was free, Emily ran to Dean, latching onto his outstretched arm. He pushed her behind him and into Sam, who had stood when the punch was thrown. His arms went around her instinctively; not that she minded.  
Luke glared murderously at them. Blood ran freely from his injury.   
Dean gazed back with fire in his eyes. “It’s time for you to leave.”   
For a moment it looked like he would refuse. But the blonde settled for a dramatic exit. Pinning Emily with an icy gaze, he winked and smiled sardonically. “You can’t keep them around forever, lovely. I’ll be back… to collect.” With that, he was gone.   
Her knees went weak and she fell against Sam, who quickly and gently lowered her into his vacant chair. She felt limp and empty. Hollow. No matter what she did, he’d always be back. She folded her arms tightly against her stomach, fighting back tears. He’d always come back.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam knelt in front of her and held her hands while Dean paced the kitchen opposite them. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and her hands were cold and limp in his. A battle raged in Sam’s mind, anger versus worry and concern. But he stayed quiet, sensing any questions he asked would go unanswered. So he just crouched there, caressing her hands gently with his rough fingers.   
Several minutes of tense silence later, the familiar fluttering of feathered wings made him turn. Dean had stopped pacing and was standing, arms crossed, opposite the one-and-only Castiel. Sam stood, placing a hand on Emily’s shoulder.   
Cas looked at each of them in turn. “Hello Dean. Sam.” He hesitated. “… Emily.”  
At the sound of her name, she looked up. She merely nodded tersely in response.  
Dean broke the silence. “What are you doing here, Cas?”  
The angel scanned the house, speaking low. “A feeling. A darkness.” He met Dean’s eyes. “A powerful demon has been here. Recently. Its presence lingers.”  
Sam could almost hear the muscles in Emily’s shoulders tighten. “A... A what??”  
Giving her an apologetic look, Sam explained. “A demon. We told you angels are real and, well, the rest are, too.” He winced inwardly at the frightened stare he received in return and averted his eyes. “But we’ve been here. There hasn’t been anyone else. Except…” He glanced at Dean.  
Dean looked grim. “That blonde bastard extraordinaire.”  
“Wait.” A hand gripped Sam’s arm. “Luke? He’s a… demon??”   
Sam forced himself to meet her eyes. “I’m afraid so.” The amount of fear that flooded her face astounded him. “Emily? Are you alright?”  
“I… It’s nothing…”   
“He took you, didn’t he?” The angel’s gravelly voice was grave, but matter-of-fact.  
Dean looked confused. “Hang on, what do you mean, took her?”  
“You have seen her injuries. I assume you know what they are from. And who gave them to her.”  
“Well, yeah, I guess, but-“  
Sam interrupted as the realization dawned on him. “He. Did. What??” He ground out each word through clenched teeth, his voice dangerously soft and low.   
The dejected girl merely shook her head, her eyes and fists clenched shut.   
Castiel responded for her, nodding. “So it seems.”  
Dean held up his hands in a “slow down” gesture. “Hold up. You lost me.”  
Practically shaking with rage, Sam shoved his fingers through his hair, turning away.   
Again, Cas supplied the answer. “He raped her.”  
Confusion melted to horror and disgust. But Cas didn’t stop. He turned back to Emily, stepping in front of her. “I know this is a difficult time, and a delicate subject, but I must know.”  
Her head lifted slightly.  
“Are you with child?”  
Both brother’s heads snapped to stare at Cas, then Emily. But instead of the adamant “NO!” Sam had expected, she merely shrugged helplessly. “I-… I don’t know…” Her voice broke as the tears began to flow again.   
Sam’s widened eyes met his brother’s. This… was unlike any job they had ever worked. Ever. He didn’t know how to react, and neither did Dean. Both of them looked to Cas.  
“Well, how do we, you know, tell?” Dean looked almost frightened at what Cas might say. Any other circumstances and Sam would’ve laughed. But not now.   
“I can find out,” Cas said simply. He stepped close to the chair and took Emily by the shoulders, lifting her to her feet. She did not resist. He gently uncrossed her arms, then placed one hand on her flat stomach, closing his eyes. Then they waited. The few seconds of tense, worried silence felt like an eternity to all. Sam’s anxious eyes flicked from Castiel’s hand to his face, then to Emily’s. She looked so scared, with her eyes screwed shut and every muscle stiff. Finally, the angel’s eyes opened and blue stone met blue fear.  
“Yes.” He removed his hand.   
Sam had to step forward and catch her as she slumped to the ground. Before letting himself think about it, he bent and slipped an arm beneath her knees. He carried her, bridal style, to the couch, where he laid her down as gently as possible. Sitting at her feet, he dropped his head in his hands. What on earth are we supposed to do now??  
Dean stood in front of him, shock lingering in his eyes. He seemed speechless, and equally at a loss as to what to do.   
Cas stood next to Dean, seemingly unaffected by the unusual situation. “She can’t stay here.”  
“W-well yeah, but, I mean, where can she go?” Sam glanced over at her. Her silence worried him. She was just lying there in the fetal position, hugging herself with her eyes jammed shut.   
Dean scratched his head. “We got any safe houses near here?”   
Heaving a sigh, Sam racked his brains for an answer. “Ah… Closest one would be…. Bobby’s place, I guess. And that’s still a good few days drive.”  
“Ok then. We’re goin’ to Bobby’s. I’ll pack the bags, you call ahead and help Emily get her stuff together.” Dean turned away, gesturing to Cas. After a moment’s whispering, the two men walked out.  
Sam stood, then knelt by her head. De ja vu. “Hey. You with me?”  
After letting out a deep breath, she opened her eyes. “Mm-hm.”  
“Did you hear any of that?”  
“All of it,” she whispered.   
“Are you… ok with all this?”  
She pushed herself up into a sitting position, straightened her clothes, then her hair. “Now that we have the dramatic emotional breakdown out of the way, yeah, I think I’m ok.” A faint smile flickered on her lips.  
Sam smiled back, standing. “Great.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Then let’s get started.”  
__________________________________________________  
Forty-five minutes later, Emily had packed everything she thought she would need for this new adventure. She watched as Dean tossed the duffel carrying her few precious belongings into the back of his Impala, a really beautiful car in her opinion. Sam was standing next to her.   
Slamming the trunk, Dean brushed his hands off. “Alright. You sure you’ve got everything?”  
Emily nodded, pulling the collar of her faux-leather jacket closed around her neck. “I’m sure-“   
Dean cut her off. “Hang on. Ha-hang on. No more of this ‘pulling-on-your-clothes-to-cover-up’ thing. Cas will you-?” He waved a hand toward her.  
Ignoring her confused looks, Cas nodded and stepped close, placing on hand firmly on her shoulder. A dull throbbing pain spread from his palm, through her chest and down her arms, making her wince and grunt. Then, suddenly, it was gone. The angel removed his hand, nodding to her. Confused, she looked at each of them, from Cas’ deadpan to Dean’s idiotic grin. She rolled her shoulder, then looked up at Sam. “What was that?”  
Again, Dean interjected. “Angel mojo. Take off the jacket.”  
“Okay….” With reluctance, she slipped out of the garment. Then smiled. All her bruises, every single injury was healed. She looked over at Cas. “Thank you.” She received another nod in return. Dangling the jacket from her fingertips, she stepped closer to the car. “So, Dean. Impala? 1967, right?”  
Dean’s eyebrows shot up, but his grin never faded. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s… exactly right. How’d you…?”  
Emily shrugged, resisting the urge to glance at Cas. “Jimmy. He was crazy about cars. Especially old ones.” She slung her jacket over her shoulder, trying to appear lighthearted.  
“Cool.” Dean nodded.   
After a moment’s silence, Sam spoke up. “Alright, well. Time we hit the road.” He stepped forward and opened the rear door of the Impala. “You ready?”  
Taking a breath, Emily forced a smile. “Yeah. I’m ready.” She slid into the seat, and Sam closed the door behind her. She watched as the brothers spoke in hushed tones with Castiel, then began a verbal battle once he had disappeared. Nervous jitters spread through her stomach. Dean dropped into the driver’s seat while Sam folded his tall frame into the passenger’s side. They both looked back at her.   
“You good?”   
Emily nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”  
Dean turned to the front and started the car. “Good.”  
Sam lingered, then turned more slowly, settling back in his seat.  
Shifting the car into gear, Dean started them off down the road, away from her home, away from everything she had ever known. “Let’s go on an adventure.”


	6. Chapter 6

Sam yawned and glanced at the clock. They had been driving for hours, with very few stops. He and Dean had switched a couple times, but Dean was being incredibly stubborn (surprise, surprise) and was insisting on doing most of the driving. Sam stretched as best he could in the cramped space, then twisted in his seat to check on the newest member of their odd little family. She was curled up on the back bench, asleep, her head cushioned by Sam’s folded-up jacket. She looked much more peaceful this way, relaxed and breathing steadily and softly. He smiled a bit. She really was very beautiful, when she wasn’t worried or stressed or scared. Sighing, he leaned his head back against his seat.  
Dean looked over. “Why the melodrama?”  
“I just… I hate that she has to go through this, you know? Being dragged into our world… By being raped, by a demon of all things…”   
“Yeah and then having to have its kid. It sucks, man, I know, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Except help her. Like we always do.”  
“Yeah…” Sam sank back into thoughtful silence.  
Glancing in the rear view mirror, Dean chuckled softly. “Look at ‘er. All worn out.” He turned the wheel and pulled the car into the parking lot of a small motel. “I’ll go get us checked in. You get Emily.”   
“Yeah.” Both brothers exited the car and headed in their respective directions. Sam carefully opened the door at Emily’s feet and leaned over her. “Emily?”   
“Mmm?”  
“Hey. We’re at a motel. We’re gonna stop for the night.”  
She stretched sleepily, blinking. “Mkay…” Slowly, she sat up, bringing her makeshift pillow with her. She stood and handed the jacket to him, smiling. “Thank you.”  
“No problem.” He guided her to the trunk and opened it, handing her her overnight bag. He then grabbed his and his brother’s duffels and slammed the trunk.   
Dean was waving at them from the door of a room not far from them.   
Emily, still rubbing her eyes sleepily, led the way in, looking around. “There’s only two beds.”  
Dean shrugged. “One of us men will just sleep on the floor.”  
“You sure?” Her head flopped to the side. Sam could see she was too tired to argue.  
“We’re sure.” Damn she’s cute when she does that…   
“Ok…” She dropped her bag on one of the beds and pulled out her pajamas and her toiletries pouch. “Dibs on the bathroom!!”  
An hour later, Dean was snoring on one of the beds and Emily was fast asleep on the other. Sam lay awake on his pallet across from them. After a moment, he grabbed his phone and slipped outside, dialing quietly.   
“Hello?”  
“Hey, Bobby. It’s Sam.”  
“Talk quick boy, you’re cuttin’ intah my beauty sleep. You boys en route?”  
“Yeah we’re on our way. It’s pretty slow going.”   
“How’s the girl?”   
“She’s doing alright, so far anyway.”  
“You’re taking all the precautions? That thing’ll be after you.”   
“Yeah… Yeah we are. No sign of him yet.”   
“How far out are y’all?”   
“Another two days at least. If everything goes as planned.”  
“Cuz stuff always goes as planned in this family,” Bobby snorted.  
Sam chuckled. “Yeah no kidding. See ya, Bobby.”  
“Night.”  
_________________________________________________  
Yawning, Emily slowly opened her eyes. Wait… This isn’t- Oh. Right. She sat up slowly, blinking as her vision adjusted to the dark motel room. Dean was face down on the other bed, snoring. Where’s Sam? Leaning over, she scanned the room, finally locating him wrapped in a blanket against the opposite wall. She felt a twinge of guilt at exiling him to the cold carpet, but that was quickly drowned in the wave of nausea that suddenly washed over her. Clapping a hand to her mouth, she scrambled out of bed and ran for the bathroom. Without bothering to turn on the light, she dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and emptied her stomach.   
After a few painful minutes, the light flicked on. Oh geez… Busted. Before she could see who had intruded, a new bout of retching and now dry heaving overtook her body. While she shook, gentle hands gathered her hair back from her face and held it at the nape of her neck. They sat like that for a long time, until the last of her symptoms had subsided. When she finally felt it was safe, she sat back, slowly, and looked back at her companion.   
Sam sat cross-legged behind her, with the hand that had held her hair now resting on her shoulder. His hair was textbook bedhead, and his t-shirt was wrinkled. Those brown, puppy-dog eyes looked tired and worried as they peered at her through the tangled hair. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, then reached for a plastic cup of water sitting on the bathroom counter.   
I guess he came prepared. Emily accepted the cup gratefully and rinsed her mouth thoroughly, then flushed the toilet. She looked back at Sam, giving him a weak smile. “Did I wake you?”  
“Only a little.” He stood and pulled her to her feet, supporting her when she swayed.   
“Thank you,” she whispered, closing her eyes against the dizzy spell. “Sorry about this…”  
“Nothing to be sorry about. Let’s just get you cleaned up and back in bed.”   
Her whisper became a soft groan as she tried to banish the weak, shaky feeling she’d been left with. “Mkay.”   
Sam kept an eye on her while she washed her face and hands and brushed her teeth. He’s cute when he’s protective… She finished patting the last of the water off her face and hung up the towel.   
“Better?” Sam seemed eager to get back to sleep.  
Emily smiled. “A bit, yeah. Thanks.” She looked past him, resisting the urge to laugh. Dean was still draped across the motel bed, sleeping like a log and snoring like power saw. “How has he slept through all of this?”   
Sam shrugged helplessly. “I have… no idea.”  
Stifling a giggle, Emily turned her face up toward him, smiling softly. “Thanks again, Sam.” With quick, shy steps she tip toed back to her bed and slipped under the covers. Her body felt heavy, weighing her down into the mattress. Sleep overtook her shortly after her head hit the pillow.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, they quickly packed and loaded into the Impala. Sam glanced back at their charge and raised his eyebrows, silently inquiring how she felt. His eyes were met by a small smile that contradicted the blue-black circles that lightly shaded the inner corners of her eyes.   
“How do you feel?”  
She shrugged. “Not great, but not terrible. Better than last night.”  
Dean’s eyes lifted to the rear view mirror. “Wait, what happened last night?”  
Emily shrugged. “Just a spell of nausea. Nothing serious. But I kept Sam up for far longer than he needed to be.”  
Sam shot her a playfully exasperated glance, then turned to his brother. “How long are we on the road today?”  
“All day. With luck, we’ll get to Bobby’s somewhere around tomorrow afternoon.”  
Nodding thoughtfully, Sam leaned back in his seat, silently preparing himself for long hours of cramped legs and bad music. Nothing out of the ordinary…   
Several hours later, around lunchtime, the trio stopped for gas and food. Dean stepped out of the car and stretched. Sam and Emily quickly followed suit.   
“Ahh… Who’s up for lunch?” Dean turned to them, grinning.  
“I’m starved,” Sam replied. He turned to Emily. “What about you?”  
She shrugged, pushing flat palms straight out in front of her to stretch. “I’m not really hungry…”  
Immediately worry creased his brow. “Well, you have to eat something, I mean, with you being… you know… your condition…”  
She quickly stopped him with a wave, giggling. “Ok, ok, geez. Stop before you strain something. I’ll eat.”  
Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder. “Excellent.” He pointed across the street to a small, homey-looking diner. “Let’s eat!”

About an hour later, they headed back to the car. Dean was still munching out of a to-go box. As she slid into the backseat, Emily frowned slightly. Something felt… off.   
About twenty minutes later, she found out. Her eyes widened and she pressed her hands into her stomach. “Dean..”  
“Yeah?” Her tone made him look up and his brother flip around in his seat.  
Sam reached back to her, touching her knee. “Emily? You ok?”  
“I-“ She clapped a hand to her mouth. “Pull over!!”  
“Oh shi-“ Dean spun the wheel, sending them off the road and into the grass. Sam jumped out and yanked the door open, practically dragging Emily out and away from the leather interior.   
Once again she found herself on her knees, emptying her stomach violently. And once again Sam knelt beside her, holding her hair and waiting patiently for the convulsions to subside.   
The rumbling crunch of tires made both brothers look up. Dean stepped out of the car to face the police cruiser that had just pulled up behind them. A middle aged man with a kind face stepped out. “You boys ok?”  
Dean rested his hands on his hips. “Yeah, we just ah…” He rubbed the back of his head and shot Sam a glance. “My brother’s wife, she’s pregnant and that morning sickness stuff is hitting her pretty hard.”  
The cop nodded sympathetically. “Ah, poor girl.” He stepped around the car enough to witness Emily hunched over pathetically on the ground, with Sam at her side. “Where are you kids headed?”  
“Sioux Falls,” Dean responded.   
“Sioux Falls… Tell you what. Name’s Kole Barsad. My place is on the way there. How about y’all swing by. My wife has some experience with the nausea stuff, she could help.”  
Sam looked up at his brother, who met his eyes. A silent conversation took place. After a moment, Sam bent down to Emily. “What do you think… honey?”   
Glancing up, she gave him an incredulous look. She coughed, then met his eyes. “I guess, if you think it’s alright…” She straightened, wiping her mouth on a napkin and rinsing her mouth with a water bottle from the café. When Officer Barsad saw her face, his eyebrows shot up, and his hand hovered near his hip. The Winchesters both tensed. “Something wrong, officer?” Dean asked carefully.  
The kind-natured man’s face had hardened suddenly. “You sure this young lady is your wife, son?”  
Sam glanced at his brother, slowly straightening. “What makes you think otherwise, sir?”  
Emily glanced between the three of them, still holding her abdomen.   
The gun was drawn, moving carefully to aim at Dean’s chest. “Thing is, boy, that young lady’s face is plastered all over (town) at the moment as a kidnapping victim.”  
Sam was shocked. “What? Who said she had been kidnapped?”  
The gun moved to aim steadily at him. “Her frantic fiancée.”  
Now, it was Emily’s turn to be shocked. “What? I don’t- I don’t have a fiancée.”  
Barsad’s aim wavered. “Care to elaborate?”  
She stood slowly, pushing herself up on Sam’s shoulder. “I wasn’t kidnapped. And I’m not engaged. These men are my friends, and I left willingly.”  
Finally, the weapon sank. “So, the tall one there isn’t your husband.”  
She shook her head.  
He raised his eyebrows. “Alright. Then who is the man looking for you?”  
Sighing, Emily grasped her forearms, her shoulders tense. “One thing Dean told you was true. About my being… pregnant.” Her voice hitched. “But not by choice. The guy coming for me, he’s… he’s the one who…” She hugged herself tighter. Sam stood and put a hand on her shoulder.  
Realization spread across the officer’s face, then disgust. “Damn…” He holstered his gun. “Well, you’ve been to hell and back, haven’t you.” He sighed. “I’m sorry about putting you through that.” Moving to his car, he reached in and started talking into the radio. Emily vaguely heard something about finding the Emily Novak that had disappeared, then a short version of her story. He withdrew, looking satisfied. “Well, I just put half the force on that horror’s tail. We’ll get him out of your way, darling.”  
Emily smiled softly. “Thank you.” Sam squeezed her shoulder softly.  
Dean relaxed. “Well, seeing as how we’re all one big happy family again, can we be on our way?”  
Waving a hand, Barsad said, “Nonsense. You three haven’t got a proper bed, you’ve obviously been on the road for at least a day, and Miss Novak looks about ready to keel over. You’re all coming as guests in my home. I insist.”  
Again, the brothers silently conversed. Without realizing it, Emily had leaned into Sam’s hand and now rested against his chest with his arm around her shoulders. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling drained and shaky. She felt a squeeze on her shoulder, and she opened her eyes to find Sam gazing worriedly at her.  
“You ok?”   
She closed her eyes and hummed a neutral response. Suddenly the ground left her feet behind, making her gasp and jerk weakly. Sam had scooped her up, bridal style, and now held her cradled against him, walking to the car. He carefully put her down in the seat, where she promptly laid down and curled into a ball.  
Soon they were on their way, now with a police escort. It took a couple hours to reach Officer Barsad’s house, but eventually the tires of the Impala crunched on a gravel driveway leading up to a cute little country home, white picket fence and all.  
Sam hopped out of the car and leaned in to wake Emily. “Hey. We’re here,” he said softly.  
With effort, she sat up, rubbing her eyes. She heard him chuckle then, almost shyly, he put his hand on her opposite shoulder and pulled her against his chest. She relaxed against him. His other arm slid beneath her legs, then she was flying. Sort of. At least, in her half-asleep, nauseated state, that’s what it felt like.

Groaning, Emily turned over, curling into a ball on her other side. She was waking up… She didn’t want to wake up. Her surroundings were soft and warm. Sighing, she opened her eyes slowly, blinking. An unfamiliar room met her eyes, neat and old-timey. Her blankets were patchwork quilts. She stretched beneath the covers, reluctant to rise.   
Eventually, she sat up. A sweet quilted bathrobe was laid out on the chair opposite her bed, and her bag was on the dresser. She slipped out of bed. Her feet sank into the soft shag carpet. She was wearing her typical spaghetti strap top and long pajama pants. I wonder how that happened… She quickly decided not to think about it. Yawning, she slung the robe around her shoulders and tied it at her waist. Then, she padded softly down the hall and found a brightly lit flight of stairs. Voices drifted up from the first storey. Down she went, into the living area, then the breakfast nook attached to the kitchen, where the brothers and their hosts were already eating.  
Sam was the first to see her. He greeted her with a smile. “Morning.”  
The others looked up at his greeting. Dean grinned and raised his coffee mug to her. “How ya feelin’?”  
She shrugged. “Eh.”   
Dean chuckled. “That sounds about right.”  
Officer Barsad’s wife swept in from the kitchen and took her hands. “Dear, dear girl. My name is Carrie. My husband told me all about your problem, you poor dear.” She clucked in a motherly way. “Come, let’s get some food in you.”  
Emily grimaced slightly at the mention of food. “I don’t… I’m not really hungry…”  
Mrs. Barsad paused and smiled. “How silly of me, of course you’re not. Well then, let’s take you upstairs and get you cleaned up while the men talk. Come, come.”  
Emily found herself being led firmly away by the hand. She shot a helpless glance over her shoulder at Sam and Dean, only to find them silently laughing at her. Mr. Barsad seemed to find the whole thing highly amusing as well.  
They went upstairs, through a large bedroom and into the master bathroom. A huge tub sat against the back wall. Carried bustled over to it and busied herself with filling it with water, fussing with the temperature, and just the right amount of bubbles. While is filled, she gestured to a vanity chair. “Sit yourself down, lovey.”  
Emily perched tentatively on the seat. Carried stepped up behind her and started running a big paddle brush through her thick hair. Due to the lack of a wash and a comb in a couple of days, the brush snagged and pulled with the first few strokes. But eventually it ran through smoothly. Emily leaned her head back a bit, closing her eyes. It felt amazing. She felt a tap on her shoulder.   
“Now, off with those clothes, dearie, and into the tub with you!”  
She stood and glanced around. “Um, is there somewhere I can…”  
Carrie dismissed her with a wave of her hand. “Nonsense. I’ve had daughters; I’ve seen it all. Go on.”  
Her cheeks burned at she delicately removed the robe, then her pajamas. Then she stood there, completely naked, while Carried looked her up and down. Emily crossed her arms over her chest.   
“So thin… And those scars, honey, what on earth have you been doing? Go on, hop in.”  
Quickly, Emily stepped into the tub. The water felt heavenly. She sank into it up to her neck. “Hmmm….” Suddenly, water was poured on her hairline and ran down her face and hair, making her squeak. Carrie was sitting behind her, the very image of motherly care, pouring water over her filthy hair.   
“Now, hold still. Don’t want soap in your eyes, do you?” For the next hour, Emily let herself be pampered and mothered by this kind old woman. Carrie washed her hair thoroughly, then helped her scrub her body, right down to her toes. Then she just sat and relaxed, eyes closed, as the water slowly began to cool. The entire experience was absolutely divine.  
“Come now, dearie, before you shrivel up.”  
Reluctantly, Emily stood and climbed out of the tub, into the fluffy towel that Carrie held out. She dried off quickly, then wrapped her hair in the towel and accepted the soft white robe offered her. Then, again, she was in the vanity chair while Carrie fought a fruitless battle with the knots and snarls that her hair had woven itself into. Once she was done, she pulled up a chair and sat in front of her charge, eyeing her.  
“Much better. More a lady, less a little ragamuffin.”  
Emily laughed softly. Carrie stared at her thoughtfully. “So young…” She put out a work worn hand to stroke the younger girl’s smooth check. “And yet so sad. So much tragedy.” Their eyes met. “I’ll bet you’ve never cried about it either. Not this recent stuff.”  
Emily broke eye contact, looking away. A warm pressure on her stomach startled her. Carrie had pressed a hand against her belly. She met her eyes again. “Trying to be strong, trying to look tough for those handsome boys downstairs. But look.” Her free hand traveled to Emily’s neck, then her shoulders, then her wrinkled brow. “So tense. All that energy and sorrow bottled up inside. It knots your muscles, gives you wrinkles. You’ll never be truly at peace.”  
Pressure built in Emily’s chest, then her throat and behind her eyes. She tried to fight it, but the roiling storm of emotions buffeted her mind, clouding it. Carrie was right. She’d never cried. She’d dismissed the “emotional breakdown” part of the experience the very first day. But those emotions still festered inside her.   
“Go on, dear. Tell me what you feel.”  
Sorrow. Fear. Confusion. Uncertainty.   
Panic.  
The floodgates burst. All the pain, all the anguish, everything came flooding out as Emily slumped, sobbing onto Carrie’s shoulder. She wrapped her arms around the older woman, hugging her tightly as she fought to breathe through her heaving sobs.  
“I’m scared. I’m so scared. Why did this happen? How did it happen? Where am I going, what’s going to happen to me, to the baby- The father, h-he’s hunting us, he won’t stop. I left everything behind; I lost everything. My parents, my brother, now my purity, my house, my entire life, it’s all gone! I have nothing, I-I-…” her frantic babbling trailed off, dissolving into tears. Carrie held her. Just held her, and rocked her, just like any mother would. But very little this mother could do would fill the gaping hole in her heart.


	8. Chapter 8

Sam stood outside the door. He had heard every word. It pained him – physically pained him – to hear her so broken. But she was right. She had nothing. He and his brother had swept in, supposedly saving the day, but tearing the rug out from beneath her in the process. He stood there until, a good half an hour later, the sobbing subsided into sniffles and soft breathing. The, he steeled his nerves and tapped softly on the door. “Emily?”  
Silence.  
Carrie came and cracked open the door. “She’ll be out soon, sonny. No worries.”  
Sam shifted awkwardly at the obvious dismissal. “I just… wanted to check on her.”  
“She’s just fine.”  
Sam put a hand on the door, leaning into it slightly. “Please?”  
Emily’s hoarse voice stopped Carrie from sending him away. “It’s ok, Carrie. He might as well come in.”  
Sam stepped quickly past the woman, blushing when he realized that all Emily was wearing was the bathrobe. Her hair was wet and shiny; her eyes were red and puffy. She smoothed the robe over her lap and glanced up at him. He could see something in her eyes… Embarrassment? Shame?  
He crossed to her in two strides. He pulled the other chair to sit beside her and sat down, putting an arm around her. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s all ok.”  
She leaned into him, tentatively at first, then buried her face in his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his torso. He put his other arm around her and hugged her gently. He was a bit worried he’d hurt her.   
“Y-you know… You always have me and Dean.”  
She looked up at him. He shrugged. “I’m just saying, I know it’s been rough for you, having to run off with a couple of strangers like us, getting thrown into all this, but, still. You got us.”  
She surprised him by smiling and hugging him tighter. She pressed her face back into him. “Thank you…” Her whisper was muffled against his chest.

That afternoon, the car was loaded and running. The three of them were clean, in fresh clothes, and slightly higher spirits. Emily was trapped in Carrie’s embrace, while the boys shook hands with and thanked Officer Barsad.  
“You take care of yourself, my love.”  
“I will.”  
Carrie waved the boys over, then pinned each of them with an expert motherly threat. “You boys take care of my girl, you hear? And the little one, too. Anything happens to them, you got me to answer to.”  
Dean saluted. “Yes ma’am.” He jumped into the driver’s seat. “C’mon Sammy!”  
Sam rolled his eyes and looked at Emily. “We’d better get going.”  
“I know.” Emily hugged Carrie one last time, then climbed into the back seat. Sam hopped in after her. Within moments, Dean had gunned the engine, and the trio disappeared down the highway.

Late that night, they finally arrived at their destination: Singer Auto. They rumbled through the junkyard and up to the house. Emily slept soundly in the back seat. Dean stepped out, stretching, then headed to the door to wake Bobby. A string of curses greeted him as a sleepy, disgruntled, and gun-toting Bobby opened the door. “Hell, boys, you couldn’t get here at a more godly hour?”  
“Good to see you too, Bobby

Two months later, the four of them had settled into a regular, almost normal routine. Emily and Bobby would make breakfast, sometimes with help from Sam, then the men would go out to work in the auto shop while Emily worked around the house. Sometimes one of the brothers, again usually Sam, would stay behind and help. Emily would bring lunch up to them at the shop, then have dinner ready when they came in, filthy and smelly. Then the “clean up before dinner” fight would ensue (Emily always won), then they would spend the evening talking, playing poker, or teaching Emily with an arsenal of weaponry out in the backyard. It was a nice, almost normal life. Almost.  
Emily sighed, stretching. She had spent most of the morning trying to clean Bobby’s office without messing up his – ahem – “filing system”. The entire room was covered in stacks of papers and books, none of which seemed organized in any conceivable way. It’s a wonder then man could ever find anything. She went into the kitchen and washed her hands and face, then started piling the boy’s lunches into the basket she used to carry them every day. As she worked, her stomach brushed up against the counter. Not a big deal to most people, but to someone who did this every day and had never once brushed the counter top during that specific action, it was. She bit the inside of her lips, then slowly dropped her hands to her waist, then slid one over her stomach.  
There it was. Small, hard to notice, but definitely there. Her previously flat stomach now bent outward in a smooth curve. For weeks she had kept herself busy, trying to let the growth go unnoticed, but now it was impossible to ignore. She breathed deeply, cupping her hand beneath the growing child. She couldn’t pretend any longer. This was most definitely happening.   
She cleared her throat and grabbed the basket, setting it against her hip. But, life most go on. Determinedly, she headed out the door, grabbing her Glock (a gift from Dean) from the side table on her way out. She tucked it into the thigh holster she now wore almost 24/7.  
The walk to the shop was long, but pleasant. It was almost the only outside time she got. Soon, the shop was in sight. She could see Dean’s legs sticking out from under one of the cars. Bobby was at the toolbox and Sam was bent over, investigating something beneath the hood. Dang. That ass… She startled herself. Where the heck did that come from?? Luckily, Dean chose that moment to slide out and catch sight of her.   
“Hey boys, chow’s here!”  
She grinned as all three perked up like dogs who had been offered a treat. She dropped the basket onto the usual picnic table. “Ah-ah-ah! Wash. Then eat.” She pointed sternly to the hose.   
All three grown men moaned like children, but grudgingly sprayed their hands off and patted them dry on a clean towel that she threw at them.  
Soon they were all seated at the rickety picnic table while Emily laid out the food. They dug in eagerly. Emily took her sandwich and wandered over to inspect one of the cars. She’d always had a love for cars, especially old ones. She leaned over the exposed engine, following the hoses and wires, calling to mind all the things her brother had once taught her. Without realizing it, her free hand came to rest on the gentle curve of her belly.  
But Sam noticed. It hadn’t slipped by him, the changes she was going through. He stood and came up behind her. “Hey.”  
She jumped a bit, then chuckled. “Hey.” Her hand suddenly dropped to her side.  
He smiled a bit, letting her know that he’d noticed. “Can’t really ignore it now, huh?” He rested a hand on the car beside her.   
She sighed and leaned against the car. “Nope.”  
Dean leaned back from the table, his mouth full. “Hey, wha’ ya’ ‘alkin’ abou’?”  
Emily, raised her eyebrows, then laughed out loud.   
Sam chuckled, turning to lean beside her, their hips brushing. “None of your business!”  
Dean swallowed and scoffed. “You kidding? Everything is my business.” He stood, brushing off his hands, and walked over to them. “No really, what’s up?”  
Emily dropped her eyes, tightening her grip on the end of the engine compartment.   
Dean raised his eyebrows at her reaction.  
Tentatively, Sam rested a hand lightly on her opposite shoulder, then inclined his head toward the subject of their discussion.  
Wrinkling his brow, Dean thought for a moment, then nodded, his face clearing. “Gotcha. Right. Well.”  
Emily rolled her eyes at his reaction. “We’re gonna have to get used to talking about it. There’s no ignoring it now.”  
“Yeah…” Dean trailed off into silence. Sam glanced over at Emily, then at Dean.  
After a good two minutes of tension, Bobby sighed loudly and muttered, “Idjits.”  
That was the last straw. Emily dissolved into helpless giggles. Her knees buckled a bit, and she leaned on Sam for support. Sam chuckled, which grew into a helpless belly laugh. Dean gasped for breath with his hands on his knees.   
Yeah. Life was pretty ok.


End file.
